


A Dish Best Served Cold

by gideondorf (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, AU - Bilbo died, AU - Frodo is awesome and he loves to fight, Blood thirsty!Hobbits, Frodo and the five others are really tight with each other, Frodo just really hates Thorin, Gen, Hatred, M/M, Revenge, but with good reason obviously, the hobbits are pretty much a gang, what have I created, why do I try to play god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gideondorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU</p><p>It was a hobbit's duty to avenge their kin killed by others. Frodo Baggins has always known this. For years he and his friends have prepared to come to Erebor, where Frodo plans to kill Thorin Oakenshield in honor of his beloved uncle.</p><p>Thorin Oakenshield has spent years grieving, and he can't help but listen to what Frodo Baggins says. In the end, he lets Frodo convince him to a battle to the death. Thorin doesn't know if he can kill a hobbit, at least not again, so he'll just have to find out for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dish Best Served Cold

The group came on the tenth anniversary of Bilbo Baggin’s, formerly of Bag End, departure from this world and into the next. Everyone from the former group was quiet and solemn that day, and though they had finished grieving years before (save Thorin and Bofur), the grief came over them once again that day. It was too late to save him, and now all that could be done was a commemoration.

And of course the commemoration was broken. The group had come together like they had so many times before and ate, but this time there was silence. In the beginning they had tried to honor their burglar by telling stories of his deeds, but instead it caused tears. Thorin, who was supposed to stay calm and composed due to being king of Erebor, nearly had to leave, and was finally calmed down by his two heirs. Everyone instead sat in silence, the ghost of Bilbo hanging around them.

That was when a guard came inside and said the words, “Your majesty, some halflings wish you to see you.”

Thorin didn’t even think, just said yes, then thought over the word “halflings”. Bilbo’s face conjured in his mind and he had to fight back more tears.

The group that came in was quite strange. They were a group of six, four boys and two girls. Almost all of them had a shade of light brown hair, save one girl with light blond hair and a lad with dark brown hair. He appeared to lead the group, an axe on his back and a bow in his hands. The three men all carried bows and quivers on their backs, and the two girls had large knives tied to their backs and smaller ones strapped to their sides, looking like they were designed to be thrown. Each of them had large feet filled with brown hair on it. They stood up straight, their eyes set in a determined fashion, but the most determined was of the dark haired boy’s. All of them looked to be young, perhaps about Ori’s age when the adventure happened, though one of the girls looked to be at least a year or two younger.

“Hello,” he said, his voice hiding emotion. “I assume that you are Thorin Oakenshield.” He pointed directly at Thorin. “Am I correct?” He cracked his neck. Something about him seemed familiar to Thorin, though he couldn’t tell exactly what.

“Yes,” Thorin said. “I assume you have come because of Bilbo Baggins. We will set a place for you all.”

“Yes!” said one of the hobbits, a boy. “I’m starving!”

The dark haired one glared at him. “Pippin, we did not come all this way here just to eat the damned dwarves food. We have business to attend to.”

“Well it’s easier to deal with business when you’re not on an empty stomach,” the hobbit, Pippin, mumbled.

The dark haired one just shook his head, then heaved a sigh. “Thorin Oakenshield, we did not come to sit among you.”

“Yes,” said one of the girls, crossing her arms over her chest. She raised a blond eyebrow. “What in Eru Iluvatar’s name would make you think that we’d want to sit at your table and eat with you?” She turned to face the other hobbits, freezing them in place, even making Pippin stop complaining.

“She speaks the truth,” said the dark haired one. His blue eyes were like ice. “I would much rather dine with pigs.” He sneered.

“What?” Dwalin interjected, his voice angry. He began to get up, but was frozen by the dark haired one taking his axe, his glare set. This hobbit had to be serious if he could stop Dwalin of all dwarves.

“I want to know,” the halflings’ leader said, “when do you wish to carry out the ceremony.”

“The ceremony?” Thorin tried to sound like he wasn’t confused, kings were supposed to know things, but he couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said. “You got my uncle killed and now I must avenge it. My name is Frodo Baggins, and I would like to challenge you to a fight to the death as follows hobbit traditions.”

~

Frodo was angry. Yes, he was hungry, but no, he didn’t want to hear anyone whine about not getting supper. Dwarves had let Bilbo die, so why eat their food? Their meat would be flesh, their wine blood.

“It is hobbit tradition that anyone who kills a hobbit must have their family avenge the death.” He stepped forward, axe in hand. He had learned how to use every weapon imaginable, but this was his favorite. “And you caused the demise of my uncle. Do you accept my challenge or leave him further in shame below the ground? Tell me.” Frodo clutched the axe tighter. “I have spent most of my life preparing for this moment.”

“You what?” asked a dwarf, suddenly interrupting. Despite receiving numerous glares, they kept speaking. “Mr. Baggins said hobbits were quite peaceful!”

The young girl laughed. “Ha! Of course we are, but we’ve got to keep ourselves armed, you know?”

“Yeah,” said one of the boys. “How do you think we’ve survived all those fell winters?”

“And when one has caused an unjust death and in turn deserve death,” Frodo said, “then it must be given to them.” He spoke with all the anger he’d felt, ever since all those years ago when his parents had cried over the piece of paper, the paper proclaiming that he would never see his beloved uncle, or more rather cousin, Bilbo ever again, at least not until he himself died. “Now, do you accept my challenge or not? I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Thorin tried to speak, but in the end he’d just close his mouth. He was a fish out of water, flopping about, but Frodo was going to make sure he was put into a frying pan and made into a nice supper.

“Well, do you? Or are you struck speechless at not being free of your sins?” He smirked. “Did you really think that you could get away from this.” Frodo laughed, which felt good; he hadn’t done that in a long time. “I took this mission in honor of him, so there is no better time than now.”

“I did not kill your uncle!” was all Thorin said. “I didn’t even know he had a nephew.”

“Shame,” Frodo said. “But whatever, we must still fight. You can claim you killed my uncle all you want, but I heard whispers of this thing called the Arkenstone. Does it ring a bell in that old head of yours?” Thorin visibly paled. “I thought so. Now, do we get this over with or do you sit?”

“Please, I’m sure we can be reasonable. I did not kill your uncle. His death was horrible, and I still grieve to this day over it, but I did not cause it.”

Frodo ground his teeth together. “You made him die over a damn rock!”

“I-”

Frodo wouldn’t allow him to continue. “I promised to avenge him that day I heard the news, and you will not deny me it! You kill my uncle and then you will not even do this to repay us!” He turned to face the girls. “Rosie, I am getting impatient.”

“If you do not accept the challenge,” Rosie said, “then Bilbo Baggins would be ashamed of you. You claim to honor him and yet you won’t do so simple a thing.”

“You are challenging us to a battle of death! That is by no means a simple thing.”

“Oh really?” asked Sam, who formerly had not spoken. Seeing the look of confusion on his face, he straightened up. “I am Samwise Gamgee, and I have accompanied Frodo to help him achieve his goal. I have done research, and dwarves are known for being quite violent. Why then can you not do this?”

“Because I cannot kill a Halfling!”

“You cannot kill a Halfling,” Frodo said, “but one can kill you. It seems to be an unfair advantage.” He smiled. “Why don’t I take both that stupid stone that killed my uncle and your life? It seems perfectly reasonable to me.”

“Definitely,” said Sam. “It is.”

“I wonder how many second breakfasts that could buy?” Pippin asked Merry.

“Oh would you stop thinking about food! This is serious, Pippin!” Merry responded.

“This is outrageous!” Thorin yelled. A few dwarves chimed in.

“No!” screamed Frodo. “You killing my uncle is!”

“You know what? Fine, I will challenge you! In exactly one hour we will fight!” Thorin bared his teeth like an animal would. “But you don’t know anything about what Bilbo would want?”

Frodo put his head back and laughed. The sound echoed across the room. “Oh, we’ll see. We’ll see.” He turned to his friends, a triumphant smile on his face. “Ask for food now. I guess we might as well dine with the pigs once before we take their king? Besides, I could use a little food in my belly!”

All the others cheered, ready to finally get another meal in them. Pippin and Merry were happiest about it.

I’m doing it, uncle, Bilbo thought, look up to the ceiling. Somewhere above was his uncle looking down at him, with a smile on his face. I’m making sure your death doesn’t go without consequences for the one who called it.

He nearly began to cry, but stopped himself. He needed to appear calm, despite the fact that Thorin dying would never erase the pain Frodo had felt when he’d lost his uncle. His parents had tried to hide the news, but they’d failed. This was the only thing he could do, and he was determined to make it count.

~

You idiot, Thorin thought, watching the hobbits dig in. They drank ale by the pint, save Frodo, who barely touched his food, just watched Thorin with a cold, hard stare. You’re going to kill Bilbo’s nephew. If he doesn’t already hate you now then he will then.

He cursed hobbits for their strange ways, being both peaceful and thirsty for blood. He cursed them for the burglar that came from their race, that burglar that was buried with Erebor royalty but would never truly belong.

The burglar who had died, who had pulled Thorin into seemingly endless years of grief. And as much as Thorin wanted to deny it, Frodo was one hundred percent right.

He had caused Bilbo to die.


End file.
